Eden's Dream
by IveyRose
Summary: AU(?) Idea for this came from a dream. Supernatural forces are working to break apart worlds and peoples and in the middle of it, Denny makes herself known years after her "death". Stubborn and questionably sane, the Avengers have to decide if it is worth relying on her information and abilities to set things right. Maybe some lovey stuff here and there. Maybe. Rating may change.
1. Prologue: A Light in the Dark

**A Light in the Dark**

A boy and a girl leave the bar at an hour so late no sane person, drunk or sober, would be out. Were there anyone watching they might have feared that these two youngsters were out of their minds to try and walk home in the cold, but fortunately the boy has a car. She offers to drive, though. Says she'll take him to her place. He has no qualms with that, to be sure, and hands her the keys.

He is too drunk to notice, at first, that there are no cars on the street. In fact, he no longer recognizes what part of the city they are in. There are too few street lamps, and she's just run two red lights. He points this out as if she didn't know. Before he can reach over to grab her hands she turns the wheel sharply and drives through a fence and into a power box. The car goes up in flames, but not a soul is around to hear him screaming as his skin starts to blister and he claws futilely at his jammed seatbelt.

But he is the only one who screams. She exits the car without touching it or the orange flames. Whether or not she feels the heat is impossible to tell. She does not call for help, and watches the car burn until there are no more agonized cries from inside. Even then she stands by until the flames are dead and the twisted, deformed remains of the car have cooled to a touchable temperature. She steps over and hangs a charm bracelet on the rearview mirror.

* * *

When police finally arrived at the scene, there was one stark abnormality to what they saw that they decided it was a case for someone with more intel and experience on strange happenings. It didn't take long for the area to fill up with dark vehicles, tents, and Suits.

"What's the situation?"

"From the evidence we've gathered here, a car was intentionally driven into the power box for a factory that has been out of commission for three years. There's only one body, though, and it's in the passenger seat."

"So someone else was driving the car, and got out."

"Maybe. But there is no sign of anyone exiting the car."

"Fine. Keep looking. And find someone to keep those people behind the tape."

"Yes sir. And Agent Coulson, you might want to have a look at this."

* * *

Coulson followed the agent to the car, and looked inside when directed to do so.

"What am I looking at?" he asked.

"The bracelet, on the rearview mirror. Someone clearly left it once the fire burn out."

Coulson reached in with a pen and unhooked the piece of jewlry. He held it up to eye level.

"It's old. I think. Badly tarnished to say the least. Can I get a bag for this?"

The agent complied, and once Coulson slipped the piece of jewelry inside he noticed something that sparked a light in his eyes. He excused the agent and continued to move the charms around in the bag. There was an owl with gemstone eyes, and a paint palette with little colored stones for paint. The others were simple silver charms— a teapot, a celtic knot, a medallion of the Virgin Mary and a cross, a coin, a heart…what drew his attention was the small ballerina standing on point.

His head filled up with too many thoughts to be clear, and he looked around as if he were lost.

And then he saw her. She was at the back of the crowd, watching him. She was dressed darkly so that the only thing that stood out about her was her pale face and wide eyes. Eyes that looked just like—

Some agents passed over his line of sight and when Coulson moved to see her again, she was gone. Coulson spun on his heels and addressed the nearest agent,

"Get someone to check video feeds in this area, _now_."


	2. Chapter 1: Cryptic

**Cryptic**

Coulson stood over Agent Sitwell's shoulder as he reviewed video feeds.

"For some reason all security cameras inside city limits were off last night," Sitwell shook his head.

"What about today?" Coulson asked with urgency. "Specifically at the crowd surrounding the work site this morning."

"Excuse me," a female agent interrupted, sticking her head through the tent door, "But we have a positive I.D. on the body."

"Good," Coulson said and took the tablet from her. He faced Sitwell and read the report.

"Ronne Gorman. This is the guy who went on a killing rampage when everything started going to hell a few months back," he said, showing Sitwell the picture.

"Looks like we don't have to worry about him anymore," Sitwell concurred.

"But that leaves the question, was it planned, or a coincidental murder?" Coulson mused. "I'm going to guess whoever left that bracelet was a woman, and I'm also going to go ahead and assume that she was the one driving the car last night."

"I'm guessing you already know who?" Sitwell asked.

"I do," Coulson said, rummaging in his pocket. He pulled out his wallet and produced a small, crinkled picture. "And when you get those security tapes running, look for an adult version of this girl."

Sitwell stared at it for a moment, then turned the picture over and held it back up as if Coulson had never seen it before.

"Why don't I just look up _this_ girl?" Sitwell asked slowly.

"Because her funeral was almost 15 years ago," Coulson answered as he opened the tent door.

* * *

Director Fury placed his elbows on the desk and laced his fingers.

"This isn't like you, Agent Coulson," he stated flatly. "I cannot believe that any group of SHIELD agents can work an entire day and find no evidence whatsoever to find out who killed Gorman or why."

"I'm sorry sir. We've run receipts from bars in the city and surrounding areas and found. A bartender 20 minutes from the crash remembers seeing Gorman with a woman but doesn't remember anything about her that would be of use in pinpointing a suspect," Coulson detailed.

"Agent Sitwell says you believe this woman to be the one we need," Fury said, sliding a print of one of the security videos. Coulson didn't even look at it. He pulled the photo out of his wallet again and showed it to Fury. He ground his teeth as the director handled the worn paper, turning words over in his mouth.

"Eden Turner," he finally spoke. "We all used to call her Denny. Cute girl. She was a niece of mine, a couple of times removed."

"Was?" Fury repeated.

"That's the last picture she ever took," Coulson elaborated. "It was at a family reunion that took place in a lodge somewhere in the mountains, I can't quite remember. Maybe in the southern states. But one night she disappeared. I _can_ remember everyone looking for her when we got word that the manager turned himself in. Said he'd killed her but wouldn't give details. Everyone gave up looking after three months and held a funeral service."

Coulson pulled the bracelet, which he had purposely kept out of evidence, from his pocket.

"We found this today. It was put in the car after it burned out. There is a charm on it that I gave to Denny that same week. I'm sure this is Denny's bracelet, and on top of that, I saw her near the scene."

"You're positive?" Fury asked. "Because finding someone who is dead is going to be hella difficult."

"I'm willing to bet everything I have that I saw Denny today, and that she's responsible for this," Coulson assured. "I don't know why she would, but it's been a very long time since I've seen her. And to be honest with you sir, I'm anxious to find her and catch up."

"Noted." Fury leaned back in his seat. "But don't let it impede you from focusing on more important matters."

"Of course."

Coulson took back the photograph and left Fury's office. With all that was on his mind he almost didn't hear his name called down the hall.

"Coulson!"

"Agent Barton, shouldn't you be in the field?"

"Hello to you, too," Hawkeye greeted as he caught up. "I was recalled after my target turned up, you know, incinerated."

"Well, if it's any consolation to you, we've been working over time and still don't have any answers as to why," Coulson remarked.

"The only consolation I have is that he probably screamed himself to death before the fire could end him," Barton said with the hint of a smile, which had the appearance of a grimace. "Serves the bastard right. But that isn't what I wanted to talk about."

"Tell me on the way to the hanger," Coulson instructed. Barton faltered.

"The hanger?" he asked. "Why…"

"I'm going back to try and get some answers," Coulson explained in short.

"And you can't do that at Base?"

"This is something I need to research personally," Coulson asserted. "At this point, the only information we may have is based on one uncertainty, and if I'm wrong about who killed Gorman, then we're back to square one."

"Aaand, that's what I was going to ask," Barton tuned. "Rumor has it that a relative of yours is involved."

"It's amazing how fast personal information travels on this Helicarrier," Coulson remarked. "Just think of how functional SHIELD would be if missions assignments or critical intel traveled just as fast between agents."

"So it's true, then."

"You should know better than to rely on rumors, Agent Barton," Coulson half-heartedly scolded. He swiped his card and strode towards a Quinjet. "Nothing is true as of yet."

* * *

****To the few of you who may be reading this, please! I beg you to review this! It's my first fanfic and already I feel like I've made a mistake in publishing it! I appreciate any comments or suggestions!****


	3. Chapter 2: Tittle-Tattle

**Tittle-Tattle**

Another day of searching had led Coulson deep into the countryside of North Georgia, where the land was half forest and half pasture with an even sprinkling of chicken houses here and there. His little red car stuck out against the earthy landscape and otherwise bulky vehicles that all seemed to be headed the opposite direction. Phil himself was a sleek, composed contrast to the ruggedness of the land and the people here.

He had been to the local courthouse the previous day in search of records on the Turner family. There was something to be said for investigating the old-fashioned way, particularly in this area of the country, where everyone had some inkling of everyone else's business. It was easy to get the secretaries talking with a few simple questions, and in no time at all Coulson found more information than he really needed.

During that conversation Coulson had mentioned his intention to talk to Eden's parents himself, however, they had apparently died exactly three years after their daughter's disappearance, to the date. The eldest secretary, a wiry woman with unsurpassed spunk, told him he should try talking to a man named Oliver Weston.

"He owns the Turner's old house along with his own," the woman had said. "Never could understand why he'd keep the place, especially after his wife died. No sense in a man of his age trying to care for two houses, much less pay property tax—!"

Coulson had agreed, and asked for Weston's contact information. The secretary seemed hesitant but eventually relented, as Coulson insisted it was a matter of national security.

"I'll warn you, Oliver hasn't been himself for a while now," the secretary had shaken her head with a tut. "No one has seen him about in months, which is strange for him. There's nothing he loves to do more than talk. Sometimes we ladies from the church bring him meals or groceries, and he seems just fine, but I can't help but wonder what's keeping him away from us."

Coulson thanked her for her time, took the post-it note with Weston's number and dialed it on his cell phone before he had even reached the parking lot. There was no answer, so Coulson left a brief message about the Turner's and their house. Since he felt pressed for time, he toyed with the idea of looking for Weston's place immediately, but the elongated shadows reaching over the streets said he hadn't enough time. He'd have to start early the next morning, whether Weston returned his call or not.

Coulson did awake to a voicemail, but there was too much static to make out a message. He didn't bother sending it in to be processed and cleaned of excess noise to get the underlying message— he could drive to Weston faster than that. And faster still, it seemed, thanks to the winding roads and pleasant view.

With so few houses around it was hard to miss the one you were looking for. Coulson saw the rusty mailbox with the faded writing that used to read 237 Shady Ln. He parked Lola at the end of the gravel driveway, opting to walk the remaining stretch in lieu of risking a single scratch on her pristine paintjob. As he approached the weathered farmhouse, cluttered with trinkets and car parts, he saw an elderly man leaning over the exposed engine of a truck by the detached garage.

"Mr. Weston?" he called out. The man turned casually about, oil stick and rag still in hand . He squinted, whether from the sun or mood, but quickly smiled and replaced the part. He wiped his hand on the rag before extending it to Coulson.

"Agent Coulson I assume? How are you this fine morning?"

"Well, enough," Phil answered, a bit curter than he intended. "I trust you got my call."

"I did, I did," Weston nodded. "You're looking for answers to the Turner family mystery. I'd be more than happy to help in any way I can. It's about time someone came looking for answers."

Weston dropped the hood of the truck and tossed the oiled rag onto an open toolbox that probably hadn't been shut for months.

"I don't mean to be nosy, but what exactly is your relationship to the Turners? Were you their landlord?" Coulson asked.

"No— well, yes and no. I was Ruby's second husband. Her first died while Zeke was in high school. She didn't think he should grow up without a father around," Weston explained.

"Zeke being Ezekiel Turner?"

"Yes, my stepson. And a damn good one if I might add. Couldn't have been prouder if he were my own flesh and blood."

"How well did you know his daughter, Eden?" Coulson asked. Weston's face darkened.

"Everyone loved that little girl. She was such an angel. A bit of a tomboy, and insisted we call her Denny," Weston said, smiling at the ground. "Denny'd come over almost every evening, there across that hill, and would bring wildflowers to Ruby. Most of them were just pretty weeds, but Ruby didn't care. Next to Zeke and Sophie, she was the most affected by Denny's loss. But nobody really ever moved on after that. It was just too sad, too strange. We didn't ever get a proper explanation for what happened."

"Were you there the week Eden disappeared?" Coulson asked, suddenly wondering why this man didn't seem familiar.

"No, I was visiting my brother in the hospice. He died not long after Ruby called to tell me that Denny was missing," Weston shook his head. "I can't help but wonder, could I have done something if I were there?"

Weston wiped his nose and sniffed, looking towards the hill. Coulson braced himself should the man start to cry, but tears never came. Instead Weston beckoned Coulson over to the front porch were he grabbed a coat off the railing and a set of keys from a flowerpot by the door. Coulson did not speak, only listened to Weston as he led the way across the yard.

"I remember a time when all these deaths were fresh on the minds of the people here. It's amazing how superstitious people are even in this day and age. There were rumors that the Turner family was cursed. That they'd transgressed against God and Heaven. I tell you, what has happened to that family was the work of devils. No loving God would do that to His children.

"I remember the night that Zeke and Sophie went back to the lodge to put some flowers out for Denny. They were on the verge of divorce after they lost her. Denny was the only child that Sophie could ever bare into the world. They thought that it would be best, though, if they continued to go together to memorialize their daughter's loss. They had asked if we wanted to come, but Ruby had a cold and didn't think she could make the drive. I stayed home to watch her. When the police called to say that they had driven off the road and burned to death in their own car, Ruby couldn't take it. She never got better after that. It was heartbreaking to see my wife waste away in her sorrow. No man should have to live through that."

"It seems to me that your stepson and his wife were hopeful Denny would come back," Coulson remarked as they reached the crest of the hill. "Did you think there was any chance of that?"

"For a long time we all did," Weston sighed. "I admit, when Zeke and Sophie died, I thought…I just hoped that they would all be together at last, you know. But Ruby wouldn't give up hope. She was the one who insisted we not rent the house to anyone else. We never moved anything in or out of that house."

"You've left the house intact for over a decade?" Coulson repeated with some disbelief. "That's an awful lot of money wasted, isn't it? If I may ask, of course."

"You sound just like that Worley woman," Weston chuckled. "It is a lot of work and money, but how would you Suits put it…It's evidence. Evidence shouldn't be tampered with, should it?"

"No, it most certainly should not."

Weston tabbed through the keys before stepping up to the door of the Turner's home, which despite what was said, did not look very cared for.

"Mr. Weston—"

"Please, call me Oliver."

Uncomfortable with that kind of change, Coulson continued without readdressing Weston. "Has any other family come by asking to take some belongings, or even try to push for more answers to these deaths and disappearances?"

"Zeke was an only child," Weston answered. "Sophie's family lives up North…or, they did, if they are still around. But no, any family close enough to care stopped looking for answers after a few years and were content to mourn in silence."

With some effort the door was jostled open. A cloud of dust and a dead spider fell to the ground after being freed from their resting place on the doorframe. Coulson peered around the main room without crossing the threshold.

"I'll leave you to look around for yourself. Take what you want or need. Just be sure to lock the door behind ya when you leave," the old man requested.

* * *

**Sorry this took so much longer to update! **

**Please, please, please— to those who are reading this, I would love to hear what you think! Review away!**


	4. Chapter 3: Muddled

**Muddled**

The onset of autumn was evident in the brisk breeze that whipped down the sidewalk. A particularly strong gust was the deciding factor that placed Thor, Jane, Darcy and Loki in Starbucks this morning, to order something warm for the rest of their walk. While the café was warm and inviting they chose to power through the morning cold with drinks in hand, mostly at Jane's command, so that they wouldn't be late. She and Selvig (along with Darcy's unfailing presence and occasional help) were working in a make-shift observatory trying to find answers to the strange energy phenomenon plaguing Earth for the past year. According to Jane, SHIELD claimed to lack enough funds to keep them in a decent workspace. It was clear she still harbored sour feelings on the matter.

Regardless, they had made relative progress in tracking relative events. Had they discovered anything particularly useful, not exactly. But the previous evening Selvig stayed late and had apparently found something interesting, which he requested Jane come in and see immediately. Darcy was the obvious tag-along being Jane's intern— as for Thor and Loki, they were a pleasant and not-so pleasant surprise respectively. Thor had stopped by Jane's apartment that morning for a simple greeting, and had run into Darcy on the way. Loki was with Thor because SHIELD had yet to make other babysitting arrangements, as Darcy later summarized. Jane was more than willing to invite Thor along. She even made attempts to include Loki in the group's conversations, but Loki's gleaming positivity snuffed out every topic that came his way. Thor apologized numerous times, and each time Jane politely assured him it was all right while she shot withering glances Loki's direction. From Starbucks onward Loki tailed the group silently and sourly.

Darcy just told a story that involved a string of embarrassing events courtesy of Jane (who denied each as they slipped from her intern's lips), and she had barely finished when Thor (as he begged Jane's forgiveness) began laughing outright. He laughed so hard he lost his balance and nearly bowled over a young woman passing the other way. He reacted quickly, though, and caught her arm as she reached with the other to brace herself.

"Forgive me!" Thor uttered, and was about to insist on his fault when the girl's kind smile cut him off. Without a word she turned and continued on her way. Thor watched her disappear into the crowd.

"Thor!"

He jolted back to reality at the sound of Jane's voice.

"I'm sorry," he said again, returning his attention.

"At least you didn't knock her into the street," Darcy pointed out.

"That _would_ have been a tragedy," Loki agreed dryly.

Both Thor and Jane were about to chide him when the chorus of Bubblegum Bitch belted out of Jane's pocket. She huffed and fumbled for her phone, mostly to stop the noise than to answer it. She huffed again when she found it.

"It's Erik," she mumbled. "I knew we were going to be late— Hello! Yes, I know, we're on our way! We just stopped by Starbucks…Yes, okay. Okay. We'll be right there. Bye."

"So, how's Erik?" Darcy hummed, nibbling on the tip of her straw. Jane stowed the phone.

"You are going to tell me how to change the ringtone on this thing, and you are not going to set it yourself again, have we got that?" Jane mothered. "Erik says we should hurry, he's got news on SHIELD as well."

* * *

Selvig was less than pleased to see Loki come through the door. In fact, he looked like he might cry.

"I thought you said he was dead," Selvig directed to Thor without letting Loki out of his sights.

"At the time I said that, I believed he was," Thor stated.

"So what happened?"

"Many things. None that I can readily share." Thor looked to Selvig with understanding and apology and then to Loki, daring him to misbehave. Loki, unfazed, moved around the room to look at the charts and photographs pinned haphazardly on the walls.

"So what did you find?" Jane cued, hoping to ease some of the tension. Selvig hurried around to a desk— or what would have been a desk if it were not for the paper stacked on top and tapped to the sides— and produced an unfolded map. He spread it out on the clearest table.

"We've already observed that these energy clouds or whatever they are drift about and never really disappear," Selvig began. "But I looked again at the data from three days ago—"

"We didn't get any data," Jane interrupted. "The machines went haywire."

"Yes, they did, but I looked at where the cloud was before that, and at the location after."

Selvig pointed first to a general location in the mid-south and then directly to New York City.

"Based on the information we've gathered so far, in one day, that cloud would not have traveled that fast," Selvig said. "And on top of that, it was concentrated to an incredibly precise area. Whatever happened three days ago spiked this cloud's activity and drew it to this location."

"Where is it now?" Jane asked. Selvig went back to the desk to retrieve his laptop.

"Back where it began, hovering over the southern states," he said.

"I don't mean to interrupt," Thor started, "but what exactly is this cloud you speak of?"

Selvig and Jane looked at each other, but Darcy started first.

"Weird shit started happening after your last little visit," she eloquently explained. "And SHEILD had Jane and Selvig look into it thinking it was more of those portal-things."

"Incursions," Jane corrected. "And they weren't. And first off, what Darcy meant was that…unusual things were happening around the world…like…"

She looked to Selvig for help.

"Ghosts," Darcy whispered to her.

"Supernatural things," Selvig said. "Reports of human and sometimes animal possession for the most part."

"And we all thought that there might have been something coming from another realm or dimension that was taking control of other people's bodies," Jane said.

"Or that there could be some bacteria or virus that was causing delusions," Selvig added.

"But when we looked into the patterns of these events, we noticed this weird energy picking up on our satellite images, directly relating to the areas of the world were these reports were coming in. For instance, if the cloud was over…Texas, say, then there would be a ridiculous increase of these supernatural events in Texas. And when the cloud moved on, the activity would drop," Jane said.

"All the activity SHEILD gets info on have been coming from inside the US," Darcy added. "Usually from the Land of Dixie. Which is also weird."

"Dixie?" Thor frowned.

"The south part of the country. The southern states," Jane clarified.

"We knew pretty early on that what we were looking at was nothing like the Incursions," Selvig said. "Or even like the portals created by the Tesseract. Those were very visible doorways between worlds. And they didn't just move around— if they did, they would close up and reopen somewhere else. This cloud of energy can't be seen by the naked eye and up until this week moved very slowly and predictably, seemingly leaking out negative energy wherever it went."

"Not negative like radioactive," Jane clarified, "negative—"

"Demonic," Darcy interjected.

"It seems like this is something humans would react poorly too, leading to mass hysteria," Loki commented from the back of the room.

Selvig rotated a pencil in his hands. "Well, yes, there has been a steady stream of false reports— people wanting attention, that sort of thing. But SHEILD created a team to investigate all incidents and determine what was real or not."

"Do you know what caused this…cloud?" Thor asked.

"We suspect that all the energy put off by the Tesseract in New York and the Incursions over London stirred it up," Selvig shrugged. "We only started following it about a year ago, and for all we know it's been around longer. Maybe it just didn't have a way to manifest before now."

"I don't claim to be an expert in bad news," Loki chimed in again, "but that sounds like a great deal of grief waiting to be discovered in the near future."

Thor and Selvig glanced at each other.

"It looks like it's getting bigger," Darcy commented as she watched the laptop over Jane's shoulder.

"Yeah," Jane said absently, "It's covering more area…looks fairly stationary too, now that you mention it…"

Then she remembered something.

"You said that you had something about SHEILD, too," she said to Selvig. His face lit up.

"That's right! Let's see here…I think I saved it to the desktop…a report on something SHEILD had looked into exactly three days ago."

"I can already tell this is gonna be good," Darcy grinned expectantly.

"Here we go—" Selvig handed the laptop back to Jane. She scanned the report quickly, then stopped, and went back to look closer at some passages.

"Oh my god." Jane frowned.

"What? What?" Darcy moved closer.

"One of the people SHEILD has been looking for in connection to these events, Ronne Gorman, was found dead in a burning car three days ago, here in New York," Selvig said to Thor. He then turned back to Jane. "But that isn't all. And I know you probably aren't going to like this next part."

"Does it have to do with baseless superstitions?" Darcy asked.

"Almost. I've heard that Agent Coulson is currently in North Georgia, looking into a possible relative that may have been the one to kill Gorman. But I was also told that this supposed relative has been dead for 15 years," Selvig said.

"No _way_," Darcy looked excitedly between Selvig, Jane, and Thor.

"Oh, that's ridiculous. Who'd you even hear that from?" Jane scoffed.

Selvig winced a little. "From Stark, but it's no secret he's been hacking into SHEILD's system for ages; he very well could be right."

"I'm sorry, but that all that just came out of your mouth sounds like something from a horror movie," Jane said pointedly.

"Well we are dealing with an invisible cloud of demonic energy that wanders the globe possessing people," Darcy reminded.

"Ok then, you tell me— if it is true that whoever killed Gorman, whether they're related to Agent Coulson or not, lived or died or both in the south, where this energy cloud is right now, and was in New York to kill Gorman three days ago—" Jane threw her hands in the air. "I don't even know what I'm asking. What's the connection? What does it matter? What does this prove or disprove? How does this help us?"

"You have to at least admit that it's a very noticeable coincidence," Darcy said. "I mean, what are the odds?"

"Well," Thor said slowly, causing the others to look up as though they'd forgotten his presence, "Agent Coulson is supposed to come to New York to give us further details on Loki's arrangements. Perhaps we can ask him in person."

"_That_ I can agree to," Jane concurred.


	5. Chapter 4: Clippings

**Chapter 4: Clippings**

Coulson discovered a treasure trove of newspaper clippings and copied files on Eden's disappearance/death. They were in a milk box at the foot of Denny's bed, guarded by a stuffed bunny and a hand-made rag doll with button eyes. Coulson faintly remembered that doll; Denny had made it herself. She called it Emi…or Amy…Amie. That was it. He remembered a feeling of surprise when she explained to him that it was the French word for friend. Denny explained with a precious little smile and proud posture, "I learned it myself." Denny was always searching for something new to learn. Her curiosity knew no bounds and her imagination was infinite. As he placed the toys on the ground, Coulson wondered if he'd have ever gotten the chance to recruit Denny for SHIELD.

He read over the first article on the stack.

_"Thursday evening police responded to a missing child report at the Owl River Lodge. Eden Marie Turner, age 6, disappeared the previous night after her parents put her to bed. National Park Rangers were also called in to help search surrounding forested areas. Eden's parents and other family members searched the premises alone beginning early Thursday morning, when it was discovered the girl was no longer in her room. Cadaver dogs were additionally called on the scene when the lodge owner, David Gorman, insisted he be arrested, claiming 'I did something I shouldn't have'. Gorman wouldn't say anything else. The girl's parents, Ezekiel and Sophia Turner, remain hopeful there daughter is alive and alright and ask that anyone with further information please come forward."_

Gorman. Coulson guessed he had some relation to Ronne Gorman, and several articles into the stash he discovered that Ronne was David's son. Coulson made a mental note to look further into the Gorman family.

He went back to the first article, and looked closer at the picture the newspaper used for Eden. It was probably a school picture, as Eden's short and usually wild hair was straight and held away from her face with decorative plastic hairclips. Her face was crinkled with a genuine smile where the photographer caught her in the middle of a laugh.

Coulson had a sudden flash of remembrance, not of a specific memory but an impression of several, where Denny was running barefoot in the grass, prancing and preforming awkward acrobatics, a sunny smile on her face and leaves in her hair. Coulson couldn't help but smile. Denny had been the picture of childish innocence. She'd kick off her shoes and preform miniature ballets for her family, humming her own accompaniment. She loved to dance— that's why Coulson had given her the ballerina charm. Well, part of the reason. He had really given it in hopes that Denny would remember to keep her dreams. He remembered something that Sophia had said to him about Denny's dance teacher telling her she didn't have the body of a dancer. Denny felt so dejected and hopeless. "Never give up, because you never know where you can go if you don't keep walking," he had said.

Coulson sat back. He stared absently at his reflection in the dusty mirror hanging on the closet door. The more he delved into this investigation the more he remembered things he hadn't thought about in a very long time. Or maybe he had. After learning what measures had been taken to revive him after New York, Coulson was unsure of the amount of trust he could give his memories. But these, these memories seemed very real. He was sure that no doctor, employed by SHIELD or no, could fabricate these things he was remembering.

He looked over and picked up the stuffed bunny. Turning it in his hands he discovered a cog on the back and wound it as far as it would go. A staccato tune rang out of the toy's chest, and it took a few rounds for Coulson to identify the song. "Here Comes Peter Cottontail" continued to sound in the tomb-like silence of the room and Coulson decided to go through a few more of the box's contents before he took it with him. He rifled through some of the pictures, and then the files, all of which said the same thing. No body found. No leads. And in the end Gorman was convicted of kidnapping and child endangerment but the sentence was reduced due to his apparent insanity and was institutionalized, only to be found dead three days later of unconfirmed causes.

The music slowed into a poignant silence. Coulson sighed and piled everything together again. It was just so strange, all of it. How could so many unconfirmed cases go unnoticed, or unattended, for so many years? Whether Denny was alive or not, Coulson felt obligated to find answers.

At the last moment Coulson decided to take the bunny and Amie with him.

* * *

Coulson had just crossed the threshold of his office when Clint arrived and leaned on the doorframe.

"Back so soon?" he asked.

Coulson dropped the milk box on his desk and looked to the windows, then to Clint.

"Why have we never looked into Ronne Gorman's family?" he questioned.

"We did," Clint frowned. "He was passed around between foster homes from the time he was eight and had a heavy criminal record."

"But we never looked at his biological family," Coulson sighed, gesturing to the box. "Ronne's father was the man who admitted to Denny's disappearance. He also met an unexplainable end. That's three unusual, unnatural, and uncertain cases."

"Three?"

"There is a connection between Denny, Ronne, and his father. If I can find out what that is then I'm hoping the pieces will all fall into place from there," Coulson mused aloud.

"You'll do that from here though, right?" Clint posed.

"At this point I have enough information to go off of what intel SHIELD has, yes."

"Good." Clint pushed himself off the door. "Because Stark has been calling Fury off the hook wanting to know when he can get rid of Loki, and Fury wants to talk to you."

"In regards to Stark or the Gorman case?"

"He didn't say," Clint shrugged. Coulson's mouth formed a hard line. He moved the box underneath his desk and straightened his tie.

"Hopefully just the Gorman case. I have a feeling that Stark is not going like what SHIELD has to tell him in regards to Loki, and I am not looking forward to delivering the news," Coulson admitted.

"I can't believe the Council agreed to that," Clint muttered as he followed Coulson down the hall.

"I don't think they did." Coulson swiped his card to open the pristine glass doors that lead to the crowded common area. "Chances are Fury is doing it against their wishes, but even then I don't think he wants to."

"You think Thor bullied him into it?" Clint pried.

"That's one way to put it," Coulson agreed.


	6. Chapter 5: Picture Perfect

**Chapter 5: Picture Perfect**

"Two days," Tony complained. He held up two fingers as an unnecessary point of emphasis. "Two. And Loki has already stirred up enough chaos to rival the Chitauri invasion."

"I hardly think a flock of pigeons is comparable to the Chitauri," Loki countered dryly.

"The way those kids were screaming they did," Tony retorted, grabbing up a glass and a bottle of Jack Daniels. He waved it in Thor's direction. "And I don't know what 'keeping an eye on Loki' means to you, but it certainly does not mean taking him for a walk in Central Park for all of New York to see."

Thor raised his voice in protest but Tony drowned him out with a shot, then two.

"What I want to know is why you failed to mention to us that you brought him here knowing he can still use magic," Coulson interjected.

"Very minor magic, I assure you," Loki droned, hinting to his wrist where on a flat and narrow metal cuff, black in color, sat snug against his skin.

"Unless the All Father where to take away his magic and make Loki human, he would still have use of magic no matter what measures were put in place. The bracelet hampers larger spells, but even on Asgard there are no foolproof devices that can completely prevent the use of magic," Thor fervently explained.

"First things first— no more magic. Even if it's just turning pigeons into moths or mayflies or whatever it was. Even if it's Halloween. Even if it's April Fools. Even Stark gives you the slightest reason, no magic, or we'll have to put Loki in solitary confinement," Coulson ruled. "Second—"

"Woah, woah, wait a minute," Tony gaped. "Isn't that what you were going to do anyway?"

"Second," Coulson continued, "Director Fury has ordered Loki remain in Stark Tower under whatever supervision Mr. Stark deems necessary along with frequent visitations from SHIELD agents in order to make certain that Loki behaves himself, and for SHIELD protocol in monitoring past and potential threats."

"No," Stark refused. "Absolutely not. He cannot stay here."

"Where else do you want us to put him?" Coulson inquired. "SHEILD currently does not have a sufficient holding space for him and even if we did, our security systems are under constant fire from outside sources. He'd be better monitored here."

"Tony, please," Thor stepped in. "I do not believe that Loki can learn anything of Midgard or its people or have any inkling of the damage he's caused if he's locked in a cell. On my word, I will personally remove Loki from your abode if he causes any harm to you or Miss Potts."

Tony threw back another shot.

"You should send him out with that investigation crew SHIELD threw together," Tony mused. "If he's supposed to see the damage he's caused…"

"SOMU isn't a team related to the New York incident," Coulson corrected.

"Technically it is," Tony said. "I've been talking with Selvig. I have to say it's pretty clear that Loki's use of the Tesseract helped stir things up. Speaking of which, I hear you're looking for your dead niece."

Coulson folded his arms. "I wasn't surprised when Agent Barton knew that. But I have to wonder where you got that information."

"Barton," Tony shrugged. "He delivered Loki and Thor here, you know. We talked for a little while. Did you ever stop to think that maybe the girl you saw was one of those shadowy-things that possess people?"

"You could just say ghosts," Coulson said, an almost unreadable smug smile pulling at his lips. "Or demons, if that sounds more professional. That's what everyone else is calling them."

"I'd sooner believe that it were aliens," Tony said. "I've at least met aliens. Aliens I can handle."

"Well, if it puts your mind at ease, I've been doing research on her. She coincidentally has a direct relation to Ronne, which is convenient and concerning and frankly hasn't given us any answers so far," Coulson said. "That would be confidential information, but since it seems that this is a no-secret zone, I hope you'll appreciate that I saved you the trouble of hacking SHIELD's database later."

"Perhaps Thor and I should leave the room if you two plan on sharing delicate information," Loki said with a cheerful voice that rang thick with sarcasm.

Thor looked from his brother to Coulson. "We admittedly have heard you're looking for a family member presumed deceased, and in relation to the death of a man wanted by SHIELD."

"That about sums it up," Coulson shrugged.

"Have you tried Missing posters?" Tony suggested. "You know, like people put up for lost pets."

"I'm not even going to answer that," Coulson glared.

"Why not? It seems reasonable enough," Thor questioned. "If no one else sees her, then at the very least she might know you are looking for her."

"I think that might be the problem," Loki said to Thor.

A sigh. Coulson kept an even tone, but it was a struggle.

"She's a potential threat. She killed a man, a dangerous man, and seems to be purposefully avoiding detection. Posting any kind of notice to the public would alert her and backfire on our search."

"Well, I assume SHIELD has released her image to law enforcement. How come I haven't seen a picture of you yet?" Tony asked. "I mean, I probably have just as good a chance at finding her as SHIELD does."

He was right. If anything he'd have a better chance of locating Denny, Coulson told himself. Stark didn't have to follow the same rules set out for SHIELD agents. But Coulson prickled at the idea of involving Stark in this case. It was too personal, and besides, his patience ran on dangerously low levels around the billionaire.

"Because as I said before, this is actually confidential information. If we've released any information to law enforcement, it was with the utmost care as to ensure not a word was breathed to anyone else," Coulson said. "Officially speaking, we still don't have any idea who killed Gorman."

"And technically speaking, you're sure that it's your dead niece."

"Missing. There was never a body found."

"Same difference. Come on, you've got to have a better picture of her than that grainy security camera shot," Tony persisted.

Coulson was annoyed. He looked it, he exuded it. And he reached into his pocket (while wondering why he was always the agent left to deal with Stark) to produce Denny's picture.

"The most recent picture I have of her was when she was five or six," he said, handing Tony the picture.

Tony held the picture by opposite corners and furrowed his brow studiously.

"Kids grow up so fast," he sighed. "One day they're smiling for their school portrait and the next they're burning criminals alive."

Coulson, tight-lipped, snatched back the picture.

"May I see?" Thor requested. He held the picture with much more reverence than Tony had, but wore the same contemplative expression. The more he looked at it the deeper his expression became, until he finally looked to Coulson with a frown.

"How old would she be now?" he asked.

"Early twenties," Coulson shrugged. "A young woman."

"I've seen her," Thor said quietly, looking back to the picture. Coulson straightened and Loki leaned in for a look.

"Yes, you ran into her quite literally a few days ago, didn't you?" he observed.

"She had the same smile," Thor said as he returned the photograph. "But her eyes didn't show it like they do there. There was an emptiness in her eyes I can't explain. But I would know her if I saw her again."

"Where exactly did you see her?" Coulson was quick to ask. Thor shook his head, looking at Loki for support. He received none.

"I do not recall. We were with Jane and Darcy, and where headed to meet Selvig. I ran into her somewhere between the Stag of Stars and our destination."

"See, look at that. A lead already." Tony poured himself another drink.

"Thank you, we'll look into it," Coulson directed to Thor. He stashed Denny's picture. Made for the elevator.

"Good day to you too," Tony called after him.

* * *

Coulson exhaled as he exited Stark Tower. There were some things he really, really hated about his job. He cranked Lola up and pulled into the traffic. Whether it was his shades or his thoughts distracting him, he didn't see Denny standing across the street.


End file.
